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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885711">Dressing Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractualized/pseuds/fractualized'>fractualized</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Accents, Dresses, Fluff, M/M, Makeup, a vague idea of fashion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractualized/pseuds/fractualized</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a final dress fitting, Bruce has John do his makeup for a gala.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dressing Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrothedefender/gifts">Mystrothedefender</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another request, this one from Mystrothedefender.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was likely John's influence that had made Bruce so open to the suggestion. Bruce had already attended the Gotham Center for Design's annual Gala multiple times at his friend Veronica's request, and each year she sent a favorite burgeoning designer his way. He'd worn an array of suits with dramatic cuts and eye-catching prints, but this was the first time that the designer, Sabino Antunes, had asked if Bruce was willing to wear a dress.</p><p>Bruce had waited a bit to respond to the email. His initial thought had been to decline, but after he let the pros and cons knock around in his head, he concluded that he didn't have a good reason to say no. He'd given his support to other designers without a thought before. Why should it be different for one who wanted to expand men's wardrobes? Plus Sabino was studied, experienced, and angling for a career; he wasn't a pure amateur at risk of making a client look bad.</p><p>Bruce just hadn't expected to feel so assured that he looked good.</p><p>For the other fittings, he had only been able to squeeze in time during office hours. Only the faint reflection in the windows gave him anything to go on while Sabino circled and pinned and scribbled notes. Sabino finally came to the manor today for the final fitting, just hours before the gala, to help Bruce get dressed and make any final tweaks. They used an old sewing room upstairs that had a large, wall-mounted, full-length mirror, and Bruce got his first real look.</p><p>Sabino had designed a floor-length midnight blue gown with a high collar fully encircling the throat. He'd played with different types of sleeves, but in the end decided to get rid of them entirely, saying that it was better not to hide the definition of Bruce's arms at all. The flowing A-line skirt was a little longer in the back than the front, with a slit up to mid-thigh on the left side. A silver belt wrapped around the waist, fastening in the front with an ornament of crossing Vs.</p><p>With one hand on Bruce's arm and another on his waist, Sabino turned him away from the mirror. Bruce looked over his shoulder at the kite-shaped cut-out that exposed his back, from just under his collar to his belt, with the side points a couple inches from his underarms. The trailing skirt now swirled around his feet, clad in silver heels with pointed toes, side cut-outs, and a straps that came over his heels.</p><p>"This would be a good pose for the cameras, by the way," Sabino said.</p><p>Bruce's eyes left his hair, tousled out of its usual gelled look, to follow the line of the dress. It swept around his hips and down to the floor in a graceful curve.</p><p>"Your butt does look pretty nice!"</p><p>Bruce turned his head to look at John, who'd pulled in an ottoman from another room and sat in the corner. He'd tucked his legs up with his heels on the edge of the seat to hug his knees. His face was all made up, but he was still in cotton shorts and a Batman t-shirt.</p><p>"That's not what I was thinking," Bruce said too quickly.</p><p>John giggled, the sound going louder as Bruce's face went pink. "Don't pretend you don't know you're handsome."</p><p>"False modesty is like deceit," Sabino half-mindedly agreed, "or some quote like that." He took a step back and looked Bruce up and down with a growing smile. "It's ready to go. Whew."</p><p>John hopped up. "Just some finishing touches."</p><p>He grabbed some jewelry off the empty sewing machine table. (The antique machine had long ago been donated to the Center for Design's museum.) He clasped two platinum chains around Bruce's left wrist, and Bruce leaned over for the matching cuff just above the missing piece of his right ear.</p><p>"There we are," John said as he finished, before taking hold of Bruce's skirt and running his thumb over the material. "Wow, I love this crepe!"</p><p>"Oh, you're hungry?" Bruce said.</p><p>John shot him a rare unamused look, which did not affect Bruce's smile.</p><p>"My apologies," John said soberly to Sabino, "that you've been forced to work with such a philistine."</p><p>Sabino seemed unbothered. He checked his phone. "Close to showtime. My notes say you didn't want any make-up?"</p><p>John raised a finger. "They should say he wants make-up from the resident expert, thank you!"</p><p>"Yes, thank you," Bruce said as John retrieved his kit from the floor by the ottoman. "Please have some of the spread downstairs. The gala takes forever to get to the food. Let the driver know, too."</p><p>Sabino nodded and left the room. John placed his kit on the sewing table, and Bruce pulled out its chair and sat. John set out a number of tubes and brushes and sponges and whatever else before dragging the ottoman over. </p><p>When he sat, he snorted and swatted Bruce's leg. "If you want to be a gentleman, knees together."</p><p>Ah, right. Bruce shifted, closing his legs and sitting with his calves angled to the right.</p><p>"Though it's fine to cross your legs, too," John added, twisting open multiple tubes. "Some fogies say it's crass, but I say show off those gams."</p><p>"Whatever mood strikes me."</p><p>"Right! If it feels <em>you</em>, it'll look great! Now shush."</p><p>John had already gone over the plan: smooth out Bruce's skin tone and apply a lip color just a touch darker than natural, and really go for it with a smoky eye. Bruce stayed quiet for all the foundation parts, and so did John, tongue poking out of his mouth as he focused. Bruce had been prepared for magazine shoots like this before, although this would take longer.</p><p>"Let's dooo the eyes nooow…" John sing-songed as he picked up the eye shadow pallet.</p><p>Bruce smiled a little at how the black well looked barely touched. "I think you're more excited than I am."</p><p>"Heck yeah, you only ever let me make you up for Halloween." John paused. "Hey, what if–"</p><p>"No zombie makeup."</p><p>"Maybe next year." John dabbed a brush into the silver well. "You nervous for your debut?"</p><p>Bruce closed his eyes and felt John start working on the inner corners. "Not too much. It's not like I'm the first male-presenting person to show up in a dress at the Gala."</p><p>"I was more wondering if you're used to the shoes."</p><p>"I only fell one time."</p><p>John giggled. "Spectacularly so."</p><p>"There's a dip in the floor under the carpet."</p><p>"That only you can detect. You better not stumble across any on the red carpet. You have to give the dress back, don't forget."</p><p>"I know, and I don't mind. It doesn't even have pockets."</p><p>"I'm both our pockets!"</p><p>John was excited to wear a retro rodeo suit that he'd tracked down online. The designer, who Bruce had never heard of, had passed away decades before, but his notoriety lived on. The suit hung up in the open wardrobe by the door. Both the pants and jacket (each with with two front pockets) were a sky blue embroidered up and down with colorful birds and flowers. John was going to wear it with a sunny yellow shirt with the collar spread wide, plus brown cowboy boots with golden orange stitching.</p><p>"My hero," Bruce said. He could tell John had moved on to the black shadow from the copious brush strokes going from his lids to his brows. "I'm surprised you haven't gone in a dress yet."</p><p>"Exactly," John said a little smugly. "The unexpected has more of an impact. They expect <em>me</em> to wear a dress, so I will give them something else. Unless I find a gown I really like. I mean, at some point, defying the masses becomes giving into them, you know?"</p><p>"Kind of."</p><p>"But you! You'll get gasps and cheers and jeers across the board for sure. Oooh, I bet the Journal will do a clumsy thinkpiece on <em>what this means for masculinity.</em>"</p><p>"You'd read that?"</p><p>"Phhbt, why?"</p><p>Bruce chuckled. "Guess I don't have a good answer for that."</p><p>"I will be spending my time finding all the best pictures of you." A couple taps sounded as John switched tools. "Time to give you some wings."</p><p>"Not too–"</p><p>"Not too thick, I know." John tipped Bruce's chin up a little. "Who's the amateur here?"</p><p>Bruce grunted and tried not to visualize the lines as they were drawn on his face. He couldn't help but picture John coloring big triangles over his previous work with a marker instead of eyeliner.</p><p>"This is so much easier on other people!" John said after a minute. "You need to learn so you can do it for me."</p><p>"Seems unlikely."</p><p>"You may just get the bug like I did."</p><p>"Seems unlikely."</p><p>"I can dream. Go ahead and open those baby blues."</p><p>Bruce did so, reflexively blinking at the unfamiliar feeling of layers of eye shadow.</p><p>John picked up a mascara tube. "Now look up. You sure you don't–"</p><p>"Those falsies looked and felt like spider legs."</p><p>"Alright, alright, jeez."</p><p>John stroked the wand through Bruce's top and bottom lashes while making "schwiff, schwiff" sounds. He pulled back with a pensive look that Bruce expected to change to a grin. Instead, John nodded to himself, rosy lips still pursed, and rummaged in his kit. Bruce was about to ask how his eyes looked when John pressed a tin into his hand.</p><p>"Shh, lip time. Put this balm on."</p><p>The balm was followed by yet another primer and base, like painting a house instead of a mouth, except John didn't have any rollers. He sat close with his pencil and brushes, an artist focused on lines and details.</p><p>When John put yet another pinkish color on yet another brush, Bruce spoke the best he could without moving his lips from their parted position. "Seems like a lot for a natural lip."</p><p>"'Natural' is a paradox of makeup," John responded. "Hush."</p><p>Bruce sighed lightly and stared at the yellow-orange-green gradient of John's eyeshadow until his mind drifted to unanswered questions in open cases.</p><p>He was in the middle of reanalyzing the inconsistencies between two witness statements when John set down the final brush and carefully took hold of Bruce's chin. He tilted Bruce's head this way and that, more times and in more directions than seemed necessary.</p><p>"Mm hm… mm hm… mmmmm hmmmm..."</p><p>"Should we get the turpentine?" Bruce asked.</p><p>John's critical look switched to a beaming smile. "Gosh, you really are pretty."</p><p>Bruce's stomach flipped at the unexpectedly earnest words. "I... uh… thank you."</p><p>"Don't you think so, too?" John urged him up by the elbow and over to the mirror. </p><p><em>Statuesque</em> was the first word that came to mind, and not in the way that Bruce usually tried to mimic carved stone, to blend in with gargoyles. The heels made him three additional inches taller than John, and if he canted his hips just so, the skirt parted around his left leg, showing off the sleek muscles. Bruce propped his right arm on his hip and took in the dramatic shadows over his eyes, accentuated by the sharp points of eyeliner that nearly touched the outer tips of his eyebrows.</p><p>He looked like one of the models from the fashion shows that John sometimes dragged him to, though he couldn't bring himself to say quite that.</p><p>"You and Sabino did a great job. I, uh, I like it a lot."</p><p>"Oh, I'd kiss you if it wouldn't mess up both our faces!" John exclaimed as he bounded over to the open wardrobe.</p><p>Bruce resisted the urge to touch his mouth as he peered closer at the mirror, trying to figure out how John had made his lips look so natural yet stand out more. "We can't have that."</p><p>In the rear of the reflection, John pulled off his shirt and winked. "Not until later, anyway. Mrrrow!"</p><p>He pulled on the rodeo suit quickly, then sat on the ottoman to pull on his boots, leaning far back for each one. Those heels didn't get him back to even his usual height difference with Bruce, not that John cared. He clung to Bruce's arm and gazed up at his face admiringly. </p><p>"Why just look at you, Mr. Wayne," he said, attempting to imitate the accent from a lead in a western. "Will you allow an ol' cowpoke to escort you this evenin'?"</p><p>"If you stop that immediately," Bruce deadpanned.</p><p>"Hm, fine," John conceded. As he led Bruce into the hallway, he added, "I could outbargain you. I do have all the pockets."<br/>
<br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>John is pretty much wearing a Nudie Suit, which I only know about because of an article I read about Kesha this one time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p></blockquote></div></div>
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